In Lies, The Truth
by Nevara Alyss
Summary: His wife was gone, in her place: his daughter. Now James has to decide how he's going to raise his step-son and a new baby by himself. The only truly safe place he know of is a Vault, but can he tell a lie to save them from the world? Multi-POV story leading up to the events of James leaving Vault 101. Slightly AU for some story continuity and an OC.
1. Chapter 1

James watched his wife, Catherine, on the operating table. Sweat dripped down her tired face. To him, she was still as beautiful as the day they had met and glowed more so even now. Linda looked at him from over her burgeoning belly, their eyes locked as she bit her lip. There was pain, an immense amount of it as she whimpered and let out a yelp. Her face grew red. Muscles trembled from exhaustion, but they still were urged to continue. Every breath and gasp pushed her further towards her goal: the birth of their child. They had been so excited about this moment. The anticipation only reaching its fevered pitch in the few short hours of her delivery. Even Catherine's son, Andrew, who had barely reached his teens awaited anxiously outside the door for the new arrival.

The place they were, wasn't the safest, nor the cleanest location to be. It was hardly ideal for the adults that were working there, let alone a newborn and young child. He didn't know how he was going to pull off his experiments, and there were dangers with that as well. And what of Catherine? She was going to need time to recover. That would slow the group down, if only temporarily, but the attacks by the mutants that were happening almost daily and the spats him and the Brotherhood were becoming more and more heated. He knew that they needed the protection, but the Elder was at his wits end throwing his people to their deaths, just for a boondoggle. This day alone had started with casualties that made Elder Lyons making a personal appearance to the lab. Three initiates had died in a morning skirmish with the mutants.

He had to get it to work. He wanted a future for his blossoming family, for the world he was bringing them into. His objectivity and idealism had come with a high price and few results that always fell short of his expectations. Always maybe's and almost's.

"James?" Madison muttered. Her stern voice snapped him back to the present situation. "I'm ready on my end."

He felt the impromptu delivery nurse lean over his shoulder. He felt like he was being smothered by the researcher behind him The surgical mask didn't help matters, nor his building emotions at the arrival of his child. He was a doctor and this wasn't his first delivery he'd performed, but this was a special circumstance. He felt foolish where he sat, nervous over his wife's condition and how this had been such a strain on all of them for that matter. They weren't exactly young anymore and the disease that they were constantly in contact with made him apprehensive to start, more so in the fact that Catherine refused to stop working when they had found out she was pregnant. It made her work harder, just like it had for him.

James nodded slowly and placed his hand on Catherine's thigh and gave her a nod. He tried to tune out the muffled screams of agony and focus on what was coming: a child. His child. Someone he'd been waiting for for months. The child was a blessing. The team worked harder, they were more at ease. It gave them something to work for. This baby was their rallying cry. It made the demands from Lyons easier to endure, but that would soon be coming to an end if he didn't get his work done.

He held out his hands as the small, thin body slid into them. Madison, stood off to the side and gently took the newborn from its father. James smiled. His heart raced with pride. "I love you, darling."

"I love you, too," Catherine replied. She lay back on the gurney, her hand draped over her still swollen abdomen. "What is it? What did we have?"

James peered over Madison's shoulder. "It's a girl! We have a daughter!"

He looked at her wrinkled fingers. Five on each hand. Five toes on each foot. Tender pink skin and a tuft of black hair adorned her head. Large black eyes stared up at him. She was perfect. He placed his finger in her hand and she gripped it tightly. He knew that it was only a reflex, but the physiological signals were irrelevant. She was here. In the same room.

James shot Catherine a pleased look. His eyes welled with tears as Madison placed their daughter in his arms. He was anxious. Afraid. Joyous. So much juxtaposition to be felt and he revelled in it. He approached Catherine and showed her their new creation. She let out a small chuckle; a look of contentment crossed her face.

"Madison? Would you have Andrew come in?" Catherine asked with a faint smile.

Madison silently nodded and started for the door. Within a few moments, Andrew was beside them. He eyed the infant curiously and then murmured,"hello."

"Have you picked out a name for her yet?" Madison asked.

"Lucy," Catherine replied breathlessly. She held her hand out to touch her daughter and shuddered. James turned his attention now to his wife. "Something's wrong." Her eyes rolled back into her head and then the first alarms sounded.

James jumped from his stool and handed the baby to Madison.

"Get them out of here! Now!"

He was beside his wife, confused by what was happening. His eyes shot up to the jury-rigged monitor and saw the slightest tremor on the screen. He started CPR. "Come on, Catherine! You can do this!" Sweat beaded on his brow as he worked. The alarms continued to whine. He wanted them to stop. Just shut up. He needed to save his wife.

"MADISON!" he screamed. Within seconds, she was by his side a look of fear danced wildly behind her eyes. "Charge the paddles! NOW!"

Madison grabbed for the defibrillator and handed them to him. He ripped the gown down from his wife and placed them on her chest. The high pitched squeal as it charged couldn't mask the constant trilling from the heart monitor. It beeped that it was ready. He prayed to himself that it worked. Ordered Catherine to fight. He couldn't do this on his own.

James pressed the button to discharge and the room went black.

"No! No!" he yelled through clenched teeth.

A large explosion overhead, shook the ceiling, spilling dust and plaster on top of them. There was no sound, no monitors or alarms. Just the heavy footsteps running down the hallway towards the outer doors of the lab. He turned on his Pip-Boy's light and shined it down on Catherine. He continued to do chest compressions.

"James?! Stop" Madison pleaded, her voice cracking.

"I can't. She can't- ." James argued with new tears dripping down his cheeks.

Madison placed her hand on top of James's and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"She's gone. Let her go," Madison cried.

James's hands slipped to his side. He started to shake. Anguish wracked his body. This had been just another tally point to add to his ever growing list of failures. Trepidation meandered through his mind like a worm through an apple. He looked toward the darkened doorway, still ajar and knew that Andrew was on the other side. He didn't know if the boy had heard everything, but that didn't matter. How was he going to explain to Andrew that his mother wasn't going to come back? And now he had Lucy here. He didn't know what to do and the lack of answers had left him beside himself. He was going to have to raise these children by himself.

He shook his head and slowly drew the sheet over his wife's face. He stared at the faceless shape for what felt like an eternity and questioned where things had gone wrong. His shoulders slumped. He couldn't say good-bye, not then. He needed to tell Andrew.

He led Madison and himself out of the delivery room and removed his mask. He shined the light down the hall. It was empty. He was thankful that in the darkness he could hide his attempt to dry his eyes.

"Sir?" a man's voice uttered from behind him.

The two scientists turned and saw a soldier standing in the hallway with a small bundle in his arms. They walked towards him, James more hesitant than Madison. Each step drew him closer to reality. He could never forgive himself and he hoped that Andrew would forgive him as well given time.

"Thank you, Knight Colvin," Madison remarked flatly.

The young man examined both of them and then at the newborn in Madison's arms. James looked the man in the eye. He could tell he was at a loss for words. James's jaw clenched. Condolences would have made it worse. You can't say sorry. You don't know, he thought as he placed his hand on the Knight's shoulder to relieve him.

"What are we going to do now? About the Project? About the Brotherhood? About this baby and Andrew?" Madison interrogated.

James didn't say anything, nor did he take offense to Madison's harsh tone. He understood. All of those questions had to be answered, in due time. Right now, he had to learn how to live with his daughter and live without his wife.


	2. Chapter 2

Tatum looked around the battlefield, her ears still ringing from the venom inflicted on them. Her hand throbbed. The new wound didn't abate, but grew with every burst of energy released from the breach. Her finger tips tingled and grew numb. Whether it was from the cold or the constant pain that wracked her nerves or a combination of the two, she couldn't say. She held her wrist to keep the fire from rising.

The words "execution" and "killing you" taunted her. She felt them gnaw at her with a damned if you do, damned if you don't sentiment. She glanced around the snow capped valley, unaware of the true danger those words held for her.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra asked from behind her.

"Yes," Tatum replied with a nod and continued to walk.

"Don't worry about Chancellor Roderick, the most he can do is bark at this point," Cassandra snorted with little amusement.

The light in her palm dimmed slightly. It was a constant surge that was foreign and part of her, like a rogue limb. She couldn't understand it. Didn't want it.

They walked towards a precipice and peered down into the ruins of the temple. The whirling snow did little to make their vision clear to the path they were headed. Tatum made a fist with her wounded hand. The little strength she had remaining seemed to grow with it out of her sight.

Cassandra scanned through the whiteout and pointed down a ways. Tatum followed her gaze to the small group down below. The faint glimmer of magic and steel rippled through the virgin white snow. They rushed down the slope, sliding through snow and rocks to get to the fighters. Though their footing was terrible, they made it to a more manageable path. Panicked screams rode on the shrieking wind and the closer they drew the more frantic the fighting seemed to be.

One soldier, fighting a shade, was losing his balance on the icy stone. The shade came at him, claws ready to tear into him. Tatum focused herself, and let loose a lightning bolt at it. The creature staggered back allowing Cassandra and the group to take the field. However, the shade was now on to her, locked on with one idea in mind. The rift flashed and in the haze of pain, the shadow loomed over her, a blood curdling screech emanating from it.

She put her staff before her to block the blow, but it was easily batted away. The soldier she had saved before put himself between her and the shade. They locked arms. Both knew that one of them was going to fall without the other. Tatum opened her hand, the embers of fire flickered to life in her hand. It swelled within seconds. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She unleashed the flaming ball of magic on the demon. It staggered back, giving the knight time to recover. He gave it one final swing of his sword before the "life" flickered from him.

Solas, the elf, hurried her to the rift. The searing anguish that had now consumed her body was now in full force as she lifted her quaking arm to the portal. She closed her eyes, not wanting to loose her consciousness from the shock. Her head swam with the dizzying noise surging through her ears and forcing itself into her body. Every ounce of her strength became like the tide on the Storm Coast; it ebbed and flowed, pulled and pushed, was violent and reserved.

She felt a hand on her back and her own falling to her side. She sighed, but it wasn't a sigh of satisfaction. It came out as more of a shudder.

"You're getting good at this," Solas uttered.

The two of them looked at that gaping wound at the sky, both knowing that her intended target was it.

_And it's probably going to kill me_, Tatum thought.

She turned around to the sound of shuffling steel and chain mail. The knight she had saved before came up to them, he was bloodied but stoic underneath his ornate helm. Tatum looked around at the bodies that surrounded them. This was like before. The repetitiveness of death seemed to always come full circle for her. She thought she'd gotten away from it when she'd fled Kirkwall when their Knight-Commander had gone absolutely insane. It was why she joined the Conclave, to put an end to all the fighting that seemed so endless since the day of her flight. To seek recompense for so many wrong-doings and senseless deaths.

"Lady Cassandra, you closed the rift," the knight said with relief.

Tatum froze. It wasn't the icy breath of the Frostbacks that had driven her to an almost statue-like stillness. It was that voice. It was familiar to her and yet she couldn't place it. She closed her eyes and winced at the painful thoughts flooding her mind. It was an outright travesty. The Maker's joke on her.

You're just going to have to face it. Face him, she told herself as she scuffed her heel along the ground anxiously.

"It wasn't me," Cassandra corrected. "It was her doing."

Tatum flinched like she'd been punched in the stomach. She turned around to face them. She felt her face drain of color. Her throat snapped dry like the desert sands. She prayed it wasn't him. Not Meredith's second. Not the man who stood by and did nothing while listening to the pleas of other mages' pain.

The knight cocked his head and removed his helm and tucked it under his arm. He looked at her closely. With the same amount of confusion and shock she felt. He licked his lips and squinted almost boring a hole right through her as he collected his own memories to sift through and find who she was.

Tatum felt like she was going to be sick. A mix of anticipation and pain filled her with the urge to run. His expression softened slightly, the usually cold indifference she remembered him having slipped away. In it's place stood hope -cautious and restrained - which nearly matched Cassandra's.

"This is -" Cassandra began.

"Knight-Captain Cullen," Tatum replied softly.

The nausea increased. She didn't know how much more she could stomach. Cassandra's eyes grew wide at Tatum. She felt the stunned stare loom over her long enough to weaken her resolve. Tatum's eyes fell to the ground, her ears buzzed. This _was_ the Maker's attempt at a joke at her expense and she didn't find it amusing at all.

"Yes, um, well," Cassandra stammered, still awash with shock. "Commander Cullen. Former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall's Templars. He leads are military forces."

_Someone's gone up in the world_, Tatum thought, her blood running cold with the tiniest flames of anger beginning to grow into a roaring inferno in her chest.

"Commander Cullen, this is -," Cassandra continued.

"Tatum," Cullen said with a sad tone riding on his voice. Tatum lifted her eyes slowly to meet his. They were much more somber than she remembered. Not so hard, not so uncaring. Just concerned and doubtful. Cassandra grunted uncomfortably at the interruptions and turned away from the two of them standing awkwardly with soot and snow commingling around them. "Do you think you can do this?"

Tatum had her own reservations. If Cullen had just done his job she wouldn't have been in this situation. _If he had listened, I wouldn't of had to – to-. Stop it, Tatum. It wasn't your fault,_ she scolded herself. Now was not the time for her to place blame. She was out of her cell to do something, something that was so much more pertinent than her bitter resentment and regrets.

"I'll try," Tatum replied with a slight shrug.

Cullen let out a sigh and rolled his head on his shoulders. "That's all we can hope for at this point," he replied. He looked exasperated and exhausted but turned his attention to Cassandra. "The path is clear from here on out." He looked at Tatum, sizing her up as if to see she was actually capable of stopping the current situation. "We're going to fall back to a ways to catch any stragglers."

He never took his eyes off her. It appeared to be a mix of suspicion and curiosity that crossed his face and refused to release him from it, like he was looking at a ghost from his past. He cleared his throat and began to walk away. He propped up a limping soldier and turned back to them. "Good luck, you two."

She watched him leave, her own suspicions heightened.

When the snow drifts obscured the soldiers from their view they turned to the ruins and the devastation supposedly left in her wake. They walked through the crumbling doorways and broken stone. Charred bodies encased in soot and ash looked like macabre statues that would have dotted some Chaisnd's village.

She looked at the terrified faces, frozen in time. Tatum had family here. Could it have been this person? Or that person? Were they blown apart and floated on the ash they were breathing? Did she do this? Did she kill the Divine? Her friends? Why? What had happened?

The more she questioned herself, the more she became frustrated by the lack of memories. She let out a small growl that drew the attention of the dwarf, Varric.

"You alright?" he asked with a lopsided frown. His sudden question broke the awkward silence that Tatum had preferred.

"Yes," Tatum replied. _I don't know anymore_, she thought as the swirling energy of the breach began to encompass them. They walked to where the breach was and saw a large rift, frozen and bound before them. "How are we going to get to it?"

Solas frowned and switched his staff to his other hand as he thought out loud. "This is the main one. I don't know if you'll have enough energy to close the breach on your own. But sealing this rift might slow it down and stop it from expanding."

"Hence not killing me in the process," Tatum remarked.

Solas's shoulders slumped. "Possibly. This is largely an unknown. It may or may not."

"Are you ready," Cassandra interjected.

Tatum nodded as her eyes panned around what was once where the Conclave was. Bodies flickered and flowed with a flame from within them.

"The world's not going to get any less mad with us standing here. Let's get this over with," Tatum replied.

_For better or worse._


End file.
